The Code

Speaking of the Times, fourteen years ago, when Steven Crist was covering horse racing for the paper, Sports Illustrated ran a photograph of him posing at a wagering window fumbling with a wad of cash. Crist liked to play the horses as well as write about them. In his view, he had nothing to hide: if you weren't betting, you weren't paying attention.

A colleague of Crist's from the business section of the Times saw the Sports Illustrated story and lodged a complaint with his editors. It seemed that Crist might be capitalizing on inside information that had been gathered in the Times' good name. Crist was summoned to the office of Max Frankel, the executive editor, to explain himself. Crist asserted that in horse racing there is no such thing as inside information: what one learns in the stables is available to all. After several weeks, the matter faded away. Frankel remembers that he directed Crist to stop playing the horses, but Crist felt that it was all right to keep betting—and he did, with the understanding that perhaps in the future he might consider exercising better discretion.

Crist's experience came to mind last week when the Times issued a revised code of conduct for its news and editorial departments, a fifty-two-page document portentously titled "Ethical Journalism." Three years in the making, this set of guidelines governing what reporters, columnists, and editors may or may not do, accept, join, advocate, invest in, or appear at is so thorough that even the index, with its six pages of entries such as "code of ethics, purpose of," "news sources, romantic involvement with," "meals, accepting, guidelines for," and "information, false," is enough to make a man consider a career in public relations. The index entry for "gambling" directs you to Article 131, which states, "To avoid an appearance of bias, no member of the sports department may gamble on any sports event, except for the occasional recreational wagering on horse racing (or dog racing or jai alai). This exception does not apply to staff members who cover such racing or regularly edit that coverage."

So there it is, in black and white: what Crist got away with in 1989 wouldn't fly in 2003. The same goes for many other long-standing gray-area scenarios. The new code is stricter and more explicit than its predecessors, addressing, as it must, a changed world of power couples, hot I.P.O.s, and escalating hostilities over accusations of ideological bias.

Here's what you learn in "Ethical Journalism": Staff members may not hold public office or wear campaign buttons or attend political rallies. Members of the culture staff who collect objects of art must annually submit a list of their acquisitions to the associate managing editor for news administration. Reporters and editors can't own individual stocks that might pertain to their beats, and editors who determine the placement and display of business and financial news cannot own individual stocks at all (other than New York Times Company stock, of course). The same goes for editors and writers on the editorial page. The stock holdings and political activities of husbands and wives can also create serious conflicts of interest, or, worse, the appearance of them—as Article 2 states, "Our first duty is to make sure the integrity of the Times is not blemished during our stewardship"—but the rules on spouses are vague. (Generally, you get the impression that it would be best not to have one.) There is also this, about free food: "A simple buffet of muffins and coffee at a news conference, for example, is harmless."

As commonsensical and salutary as so much of this is, one comes away from reading the document with a renewed sense of wonderment at the Times' vision of itself. "Ethical Journalism" is suffused with a deep suspicion of commerce, depicting journalists as a priestly class that must remain unsullied by the squalid affairs of ordinary men and women. It's no small task, being the paper of record, but such pronouncements as "journalists have no place on the playing fields of politics" can seem as disingenuous as they are well intentioned.

(Full disclosure: This correspondent receives the Times at home every morning, in his spouse's name. He also counts among his acquaintances a handful of Times staff members, though he has never participated in a regular game of golf or cards with them—Article 23. He has, however, often invoked the Times' name in private activities, in violation of Article 60.)

Of a half-dozen Times staff members contacted, none had read the thing yet. They were busy putting out the paper. Felicity Barringer, who covers the newspaper industry, couldn't really talk. "You're not going to believe this," Barringer said, "but I'm conflicted. My husband was one of the drafters of the code." Her husband is Philip Taubman, the deputy editorial-page editor, who, along with William E. Schmidt, the associate managing editor for news administration, is cited throughout the document (by title, not name) as the go-to arbiter for the many scenarios that would call for consultation rather than decree. (The actual writing of the document was handled by Fred Andrews, a retired business-page editor.) "We chose to err on the side of providing too many rules and regulations," Taubman said. "Some might say the Times is overzealous in this, but I don't think you can be too overzealous. At the end of the day, though, what it makes clear is that if you're at all unsure you should consult with your supervisor."

Steve Crist left the Times in 1990 and is now the publisher of the Daily Racing Form, and his policy is to encourage his reporters and handicappers to bet on the horses. As for the new code at the Times, he would count himself in the too-overzealous faction. "One hopes that a newspaper doesn't employ liars and criminals as reporters and columnists," he said last week. "I think this is a little silly."